Louder Than Words
by yourbrowneyedgirl
Summary: Sometimes, you can only show a person how much you love them. All Human. Set in late 1800's.


**Louder Than Words**

.

The little girl put her gloved hand into that of her mother's as they picked their way through the mud and up the stairs of the general store. It was a particularly cloudy morning, having rained and thundered the night before, and the roads were wet and muddy, which was a foreign sight to the new family from the city- San Francisco, to be exact.

"My," Renee sniffed as they entered the store, "How _quaint_. Look at all the little homey things, Bella. _Look_, darling. Don't _touch_. I won't have you ripping your gloves on the rough wood- that's your third pair this week."

"Sorry, Mama," Bella sighed as she pulled her hand away from a pretty porcelain shepherdess. Bella had never been in such a place as this before, and the sights, sounds and smells of the bustling store had lit her senses alight. It was so… unrefined and quaint, but beautiful in its own way.

"I just need four yards of muslin, and then we can leave this awful place," Renee said under her breath, pressing an embroidered handkerchief to her nose to mask the smells of the unwashed people around her. These country bumpkins hadn't even had the decency to put the chickens for sale outside, not indoors with the rest of the merchandise. She supposed the floor was crawling with insects and disease. Her boots would have to be burned or given to a servant after this. It was a shame, really, because Charles had just ordered the calfskin footwear from Paris, and now it would have to be destroyed. Served him right, though. Making them move to this awful place.

She dragged Bella to the linens counter, with another admonishment not to touch absolutely anything. Places like these carried all sorts of disgusting germs. Renee stood patiently to be waited on, looking about with disdain. She would have to have Charles come here from now on. It was too dirty, and not befitting a woman of her status. Why, if her friends from San Francisco could have seen her here, they would have been appalled at the meager and dingy surroundings.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" The young girl behind the counter asked. Renee personally thought that the girl should have taken the time to look in a mirror before she came to work, but said nothing about it as she genteelly placed her order. The muslin itself was a creamy ivory, thick and practical for chemises and Charles' underclothing. The quality of the fabric pleasantly surprised Renee, and she thought that perhaps Forks wasn't as bad of a place as she thought. Much too dirty and untamed for a gentlewoman, but nonetheless, it had potential if the muslin was as fine as this.

"Renee Swan?"

Renee visibly jumped at being addressed, and at that, so informally. She had been Mrs. Swan in the city- no one dared address a lady by her Christian name, and only that. She slowly turned around, her hand on Bella's shoulder in a protective gesture, fearful of whom had called her. To her relief, it was the doctor's wife, and not one of the coarse women around them.

Esme Cullen stretched out her own _un_gloved hand in greeting, a smile on her face. "So good to see you again, Renee. I see you've finally stepped out to see what this little town has to offer." She said pleasantly, glancing with curiosity at Bella, who was firmly gripping Renee's skirts.

Renee shook the woman's hand feebly, noticing that Esme's hands were rough and cracked, unlike her own, which were as soft as peaches. She resisted the urge to sniff in disdain. Esme might have been the good doctor's wife, but she was a countrywoman nonetheless. One should be conscientious enough to wear gloves when about the town, even for such menial errands as these.

"Hello, _Mrs._Cullen. Bella and I were just on a quick errand for muslin."

Esme smiled knowingly. "A chemise never wants to last as long as we want it to, does it?"

Renee's face turned bright red. This woman was plainly discussing undergarments in polite society!

"Err, yes. I mean, um, no, they do not. Forgive me, Mrs. Cullen, but I have neglected to introduce my daughter to you. Isabella, this is Mrs. Cullen, Doctor Cullen's wife."

Bella primly accepted Esme's handshake, smiling at the pretty lady who had made her mother so uncomfortable. Mama was funny when her face turned red. It wasn't until Bella stepped back to once again take her mother's hand that she noticed a little boy about her age hiding behind Esme.

"Who is that?" Bella wondered aloud, trying to peer at the boy who obviously did not want to be seen.

"Oh! This is my son, Edward. Edward, darling, come introduce yourself," Esme pushed the redheaded boy in front of her, motioning him forward. He regarded the little girl with curious eyes, his dirty shoes scuffing the wooden floor. He noticed her gazing at him and quickly studied the floor underneath them, unruly bronze hair falling into his eyes.

"Say hello to the young man, Isabella," Renee chided, gently patting Bella on the back.

The little girl dropped a perfect curtsey, which was an unusual feat, seeing as how she was unfailingly clumsy.

"Hello, Edward," she said sweetly, "Aren't you in the first year, with Mrs. Crowley? I'm starting school next week, and I'm a first year. We'll be the best of friends, I know it." She smiled shyly at him and blushed, feeling awkward for being so forward.

When the young boy refused to lift his head to meet her gaze, though, she felt utterly shamed and wished the floor would swallow her up. How embarrassing! Bella quickly returned to her mother's side, and the smile that had lit her pretty face had disappeared. She stared at Edward with unfriendly eyes, hurt and put off by his rudeness, not understanding that his silence was not her fault.

Esme sighed; this sort of thing happened all too often with her boy, and if Isabella Swan was like the other children in this small town, Edward's shyness had just cost him another friendship. Her cheeks flamed as she apologized to Renee and her daughter, and swiftly escorted her own child out the door, suddenly eager to be on her way home.

Carlisle noticed his wife's troubled expression as he helped her into the carriage, and his son's downtrodden figure as he climbed in behind her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had transpired in the store, and he patted his son on the back in a comforting gesture.

"It's alright, son," he had said softly, but Edward swiftly turned away from him, not wanting his father to see the weakness that was leaking out of his eyes and running down his face.

_If only she had given him a minute more… he could have explained… could have taken his time…_

And then what? Have her laugh at him, in front of a few dozen townspeople and patrons? Hear her mock his voice, over and over, like the others did…

No. It was probably for the best that he hadn't had a chance to locate his words and string them together flawlessly, giving her a polished and friendly greeting, like he originally intended, if one could even plan to do so in the short amount of time he had had her acquaintance.

It was indeed, a good thing that he had not made friends with Isabella that afternoon- he didn't think his soul could take it if the brown eyed angel laughed at him.

But now he would never know.

_**Five years later…**_

"C-c-come and get it, C-Cullen!" The lanky youth mocked, waving the textbook lazily over the agitated boy's head, delighting in watching him leap and struggle for his property.

"G-g-give it b-b-back, J-James!" The bronze haired boy hoarsely yelled, reaching up fruitlessly for the prized item that was dangling from his bully's fingers.

"No, I don't think so," James drawled, mischief dancing in his eyes, "I think your book would fancy a swim first, don't you?"

Without warning, the older boy tossed the book in the air as if it were a pigskin, and both bully and bullied watched it go sailing over the grass in the meadow, landing with a sickening splash in the nearby river.

"NO!" Edward cried, his heart beating frantically in his chest as he scrambled down the crumbling embankment to retrieve his book before it was carried away by the rushing water.

"I don't see why you're making such a fuss, C-C-Cullen," James sneered, a hint of jealousy lacing his tone as he kicked the grass below his worn shoes, "Daddy dearest can afford a whole library of those stupid things you read. You're pathetic, C-Cullen, and if you tell the dumpy schoolmarm about this, my belt's gonna meet your backside, understand?" James didn't wait for an answer before loping off to the safety of the dark woods surrounding the clearing.

The broken hearted boy didn't even hear his enemy's venomous threat as he lifted the sodden volume from the ice cold river water. He leafed through the pages hysterically, desperate to know if it had been totally ruined.

Unbeknownst to James, it wasn't the textbook Edward was concerned for, it was what he had drawn inside it.

"Are you alright, Edward?" The girl's voice, like a tinkling of cheery bells assaulted his hearing, and he slammed the book shut, whirling around to face her.

He found himself awkwardly tongue tied as he gazed upon her slim figure, brown curls dancing down her shoulders, the blue of her dress making her skin luminous and her eyes sparkle.

"It was awfully mean, what James did, really," the girl hurriedly rushed on, clearly uncomfortable, but sincere nonetheless. "You should tell Mrs. Cope what he did, she'll give him detention for sure. Is your book ruined?"

"N-No," He stammered shyly, unable to meet her eyes. "A-and I d-d-don't need your p-pity." He was ashamed of himself for being so weak in front of her, helpless to defend himself as he was tormented in front of her eyes. What she must think of him. The weak, silent boy, who wouldn't even defend himself. He couldn't let her know how fragile he really was. He'd never be a man in her eyes, never.

Anger and hurt flashed in Bella's eyes as she gathered her skirts. "Fine, be like that Edward, I was just trying to be a good friend," she said spitefully, turning her back on him and going inside the one room schoolhouse, never looking back once.

A cherry colored ribbon had fallen from her curls in her hasty departure, and he snatched it up before the fingers of the wind could carry it away, winding it around his pale wrist.

_**Seven years later…**_

"He's so odd, Bella. He'd be cute if he wasn't so darn shy. What is his deal?" Lauren whispered to her seatmate as they finished an examination. Bella's brow was furrowed in thought as she worked out a trigonometry problem, and she silently wished Lauren would stop her hushed chattering so she could focus.

Lauren was new to Forks, and it was her ambition to wed before her nineteenth birthday. She had had her eyes on the stunningly gorgeous, yet painfully shy boy who seemed oblivious to his own beauty. None of the other boys in the cramped schoolhouse shared his looks or wit, and she was determined to win him for herself. It was the only reason she attended school, much to the chagrin of Professor Banner. Lauren's test booklet lay untouched on her portion of the desk, and she sat idly gazing at Edward, curling a silken strand of her blonde hair around an equally unused slate pencil.

Bella's own eyes did drift to the boy who sat a row ahead and to the right of her, his broad back hunched over the desk as he too, worked diligently on his test. It did not escape her notice that he wore a tattered ribbon of scarlet around his left wrist, much like the one she had lost in the meadow all those years ago.

Lauren impatiently nudged her, demanding an answer.

"He stutters, alright?" Bella hissed in annoyance, perhaps a bit too loudly, for Professor Banner's voice cracked the air like a whip, startling the other students.

"Swan! No chattering during a test! You will stay an extra hour today, understand?"

"Yes, sir," she muttered angrily, her face burning with embarrassment as she attempted to refocus her thoughts towards the math equation. Her father would doubtless be wrathful with her for receiving a detention, and her mother would scold her for not coming home in time to milk the cows. This would stir an argument between her parents over whether or not school was really necessary for Bella, seeing as women really didn't need to receive a higher education for their designated roles in life. Her parents would take to the parlor and argue for hours, while Bella would be left to tend to the rest of her chores and complete her homework before the sun left the sky.

Her mother would make cutting remarks about Bella's desire to continue her education, urging her to stay at home to practice her stitching, which was atrocious at best. Renee had only one child, and a daughter at that, and she was determined to make her into a lady, whatever it took. She would not have Bella grow up to be wild and coarse. She couldn't afford the possible disgrace that would come of such a thing.

"How are you going to make a proper home for a man when you get married?" Renee would screech at her, "What are your children going to do when they outgrow or ruin their clothing? You need to learn how to be a proper housewife, Bella. Book learning doesn't prepare you for the real world. I won't allow my only child to become an old maid. I will not stand for it."

Usually, Renee's rants would end in tears from both mother and daughter, and Bella would stay home from school for the next few days until the storm blew over in the Swan house.

The 'real' world frightened Bella to no end. She sought comfort in learning, rather than in the art of homemaking. She would toss and turn in her bed at night, visions of dirty dishes piling sky high in the wash bin, crying children tugging at her skirts, baskets of mending begging to be tended to; a hungry, faceless husband…

Oddly enough, the wailing infants that frequently starred in her dreams had bronze hair and green eyes.

_**Three years later…**_

"And once again, Isabella Swan and Edward Cullen tie for first place in this years' board examination." Dr. Gerandy proudly announced, polite clapping filling the room as he gave the winners their diplomas. Bella and Edward had always been the top students in both Forks' and Port Angeles' classrooms, often tying for the first place in exams and scholarships. There was no open rivalry between them, but it was common knowledge that Edward Cullen was sweet on Bella Swan, and sometimes let her win competitions, which infuriated the young woman to no end (the winning part, not the crush, which she was oblivious to). She didn't need a man to let her be first- she could place high all on her own.

"Thank you, Doctor," Bella beamed, placing a kiss on the man's wrinkled old cheek before returning to her seat.

"T-t-thank you, sir," Edward whispered, barely looking at his beloved professor as he watched the girl of his dreams happily accept the congratulations of their fellow schoolmates. He shook the elderly man's hand firmly before stepping down to take his seat. He had to walk right by Bella to get back to his chair, and walked with purpose, determined to say something to her as he went past. He was a man now (barely twenty-two, but still a man) and he hoped he could congratulate her without looking like a fool.

He slowly traversed down the narrow aisle way, and stopped at her desk. Her seatmates and friends instantly grew silent as he fixed his gaze upon her and murmured,

"C-C-Congratulations, B-B-Bella," The tips of his ears turned red as he realized how badly he was stuttering.

The vapid girls surrounding their doe eyed classmate giggled in amusement at his backward speech and awkward ways, their eyes not missing the way Edward's gaze bored into Bella like a knife. They were jealous in part, for none of the other gentlemen in their respective classes lavished their attention on them like Edward did to Bella.

But all Bella could hear was the titters of her classmates, and the way Edward tripped over his words, and her face heated in mortification.

"Thank you, Edward, and congratulations to you as well," she said stiffly, not daring to look at him, her head lifted high and hands primly in her lap.

So she did not see the way his face fell in sorrow at her brusque reply, or the flower clenched in his sweaty palm the let slip from his fingers to the dusty floor, too embarrassed to present it to her now.

_**One year later…**_

"Be careful out there, Edward. Come back in one piece, you hear me?" Esme said shakily, tears threatening to escape her eyes.

"Y-y-yes, Mother," Edward replied, anxiously tugging on his army uniform jacket. He kissed his mother goodbye before turning to shake his father's hand, not missing the fatherly glow of pride in Carlisle's eyes.

He began to make his way towards the steam train that would take him to France, only stopping to wave goodbye to his parents before seeing them get swallowed up by the crowd.

He saw acquaintances of his bidding their loved ones goodbye, some kissing their wives and coddling their babies, perhaps for the last time. Lauren had indeed secured a beau before she turned nineteen, and was wed on her birthday. Edward watched as her husband said his farewell, tossing his young boy in the air, and pressing his lips to Lauren's, and then to her stomach, which was greatly swollen with a child he might never see. Edward turned away from their private scene, but found himself looking at another, equally private farewell between Bella Swan and Michael Newton.

Michael was taking an awful long time to bid his adieu, Edward noted, but he was allowed to, since the large diamond ring on Bella's finger belonged to him. They were engaged to be married after Michael's tour in Europe ended.

Bella kissed him chastely on the mouth, but her eyes locked with Edward's.

Michael Newton waved goodbye to his future bride as he stepped onto the steaming railway car, gazing on her countenance one last time before he boarded.

He never saw her wipe his kiss off her mouth, smudging her lipstick across her cheek.

Edward too, boarded the train, taking an inconspicuous seat in the back, far away from the loud Newton, who would no doubt be bragging about what he was going to do in the war, and the beautiful girl (who was meant to be Edward's) who was waiting for him when he returned triumphant. Edward had never given a kiss to a sweetheart, and he had no girl to wait for him. His military uniform was pieced by his mother, and paid for by his father. Edward was not going to be retelling war stories when he returned home, no acts of bravery to impress upon Bella or make any other female for that matter swoon with his recounting of glory days. Edward would be mending broken bodies back together, healing the sick as best he could, nursing the battle scars of the wounded.

_**Two years later…**_

The air swirled around him, bringing the sting of Atlantic Ocean salt water to his eyes. France was so different than Forks. Considerably drier, and certainly more colorful. He could see himself living in this beautiful (albeit war torn) country the rest of his life.

"What's a handsome fellow like you doing out here so late?"

Edward turned with a start, hastily damping out his cigarette when he saw he was in the presence of a lady.

"N-nothing," he said quietly, knowing all too well what was coming.

The woman snickered, adjusting her pompadour and pulling at her scanty outfit. "For a few francs, you could be doing _something_," she purred in broken English with a wink. She slid her hands down Edward's shoulders, admiring his now torn and bloodstained uniform. "Even a soldier has to take time for himself," she whispered in his ear, stroking his hair.

_They were the wrong hands, the wrong voice, the wrong place…._

Her eyes were blue, not brown.

He shrugged out of her embrace and shuddered.

"Baby, where are you?" a drunken voice called, causing the girl to turn her head.

Michael Newton stepped out of the shadows, a bottle of drink in one hand and his clothing askew. "C'mon baby, I'm shipping home on the morrow, I need one last warm bed before I go back to my frigid fiancée," he slurred, not noticing Edward in the shadows.

Edward's hands balled into fists as he heard Michael's admission, and he felt sickened. Bella didn't deserve that awful man who could never love her the way Edward would. He watched as Michael led the prostitute away, both of the giggling beneath the full moon.

_**Six months later…**_

"Doctor Cullen, there's a man in exam Six, possible broken neck." The timid nurse called, knocking on his office door.

Edward hastily donned his white coat, research notes abandoned for the moment. Carlisle's hands had become too shaky for the job he had taken in Forks twenty-odd years ago, and when Edward returned from his three year long war tour, he had taken his father's place. Edward would at times think longingly of the old piano in his mother's house that he had taken to composing on while still a youth, and of the lecture notes he could have been preparing had he become a professor.

But Edward was a good son, and he was just as good as he was dutiful. His experience in the field hospital and clinics had taught him to have quick and nimble fingers, and to react accordingly to unexpected situations. It was no surprise he was promoted to surgeon general at the Forks hospital only a month prior.

Edward practically flew to the exam room, mentally check listing what he would need if this man did indeed have a broken neck. He was stunned to see the police chief, Charlie Swan, lying still and pale on the table. He was momentarily distracted by the pretty woman sitting next to the chief.

"He was painting the house," Bella whispered, holding her father's big hand in her small one, tears rolling down her face. "He fell off the ladder, Edward, and he won't wake up. I didn't know what to do." She burst into tears then, loud sobs wracking her small frame.

Edward cautiously stepped forward to examine the man, his heart filled with dread. It looked bad. He quietly called for a nurse, and together they checked his vital signs and probed his limbs for brokenness. Bella had pleaded to stay in the room, and she stood in the corner of the starch hospital room, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth to muffle her sobs.

She had already lost one parent; she couldn't afford to lose another. Renee had given up on the small town after Bella had been safely put through college. She had wilted like a flower in the summer, trying to find a place among the country and common women of Forks. She just wasn't meant for a place like this, she had said, she needed the hustle and bustle, not to mention couture, of the city life. She had done it for Bella, and now that Bella was a grown woman, she felt she was free to go. So she had packed her bags one afternoon, and was on a stagecoach bound for the east the next morning. She left a short missive and her wedding rings behind, dying to start anew. The Chief had never fully recovered from the shock of his wife leaving, not to mention the humiliation that had followed the Swan family, and Edward had a creeping suspicion that his sadness had led to apathy for his own well being.

Which could have led to this injury.

Edward concluded his examination- Charlie's neck was not broken, but his back was badly sprained and he would need to be hospitalized for a least a week or two.

Bella collapsed with exhaustion and relief, and it was Edward's arm that kept her from falling to the floor. He sat her in a nearby chair, arm still around her waist. He was worried by the pale lavender under her eyes, and fragile frame.

Her broken betrothal had taken a toll upon her countenance.

Edward had been immensely relieved when Bella had discovered Michael's overseas infidelity, and even more so when she threw the garish diamond ring at his head and flounced away. He didn't like the gossip and chiding stares the townspeople had given beautiful Bella when she walked around with her head held high, but he figured it would be a small price to pay, rather than the shame she would have had to endure if Michael's indiscretions had been discovered post-wedding. Michael was eventually forced to relocate to Port Angeles, like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Edward, emboldened by this, had begun to pursue the chief's daughter more ardently, but Bella, still wary of young men in general, ignored his attempts to court her. Edward had tried in vain to capture her attentions, but to no avail. Bella was frustratingly oblivious. He would catch her looking at him sometimes, and he knew that she talked about his accomplishments with his mother, but that was it. She wasn't interested and Edward was just going to have to face that fact.

But someone must have been looking out for him, because here she was, his arm around her waist, and her pretty face turned into the lapels of his jacket, while she poured out her worries to him in broken sobbing. He awkwardly patted her back, trying to quiet her so she wouldn't make a spectacle in front of the whole hospital. Bella's reputation had been tarnished enough.

He let her cry for a good eight minutes before he was summoned to suture a large gash on a young boy's leg, and he sorrowfully let her go, knowing that he would probably never get to be her confidant again.

The next day, however, Bella had appeared at his office door, a freshly baked apple pie in her hands.

"It was the least I could do, after all, I probably ruined your coat," she said shyly, her pale face in full flush.

"N-N-No w-worries, Bella," he said, eyeing the large pastry longingly, "Y-Your father g-g-gave you quite a-a-a scare, and my c-c-coat is easily c-cleaned," her murmured with a shaky laugh.

Inside, he was bubbling over with joy that she had come to see him, apple pie or not. She made it a point to find him. And if all she wanted was to drop off the homemade good and then promptly depart, then he was grateful for it. Surprisingly though, she produced two plates and two forks from a knapsack she had toted, and they sampled her creation together, giving each other shy looks across the table.

Bella was oddly full of remembrance of days past, and they shared a lengthy conversation that revolved around times when they were children together. She wondered how she had missed the chance to become this now intriguing man's friend, and remembered with shame how she had behaved around him, simply because she was afraid of what her peers would think of her with him.

He, for once, didn't care how his stumbling voice sounded to her. He didn't care that his clothing was rumpled and his hair askew. For the first time in the presence of his lady, he simply didn't care how he appeared to her. He was too caught up in the way her hair shimmered red in the artificial light, the way her hands fluttered and mouth behaved. She was an exquisite, intriguing mystery that he was enraptured by. He hadn't been this close to her since they were children.

Bella couldn't breathe when he moved to speak, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in hypnotizing fashion, the way his large, skilled hand carried the silver fork and oh, his hair, which could only have been styled by angels. She suddenly regretted putting on the first frock she could find this morning; thinking longingly of the blue dress that hung smartly starched in her closet. Her own hair was in a loose, tumbling pompadour that gave her the appearance of a county bumpkin. What her mother would have thought of her ensemble, she thought ruefully as she watched Edward brush the crumbs from his ruddy cheeks.

All too soon, Edward was once again summoned to perform his tasks, but he sought to walk his visitor to the doors of the hospital, thanking her for the treat, and bidding her farewell with a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

Bella blushed at his boldness, and wondered if she had enough sugar for another pie.

_**Four weeks later…**_

It wasn't sugar she brought to his office later that summer- it was something infinitely more sweet.

Kisses on the wrist led to kisses on the shoulder, the chin, the cheek.

And once, the lips.

But there was a girl who was confused, a man whose words came out wrong, and a mother that didn't survive.

"Mr. McC-Carty, you m-m-must understand, we d-d-did everything f-f-for Rosalie that we c-c-could." Edward was fixing his tie and running a hand through his hair, trying to maintain a professional demeanor.

The country man's face reddened even further, and he twisted his cap in his hands. "You're a lying bastard! You couldn't save her because you didn't know how to! You can't even speak properly! What the hell do you know?"

Bella had shrunk behind Edward (cheeks aflame and heart pounding) when the heartbroken husband had barged into the good doctor's office, shirt bloodied, face pale. His pregnant wife had been adamant that she deliver her child at home, while Edward insisted that a hospital would be best for the health of the mother and child. Emmett McCarty worshiped the ground his wife walked on, and paid dearly for his blind affection.

Pride shoved Reality out of the way, and Rosalie McCarty did not live to hear her newborn's first cry.

And somehow, it was all Edward's fault.

The enraged man shoved him, hard. Even in his grieved state, he was stronger than the lean and lanky doctor, and Edward was propelled backwards into the gilt and glass table that housed his father's medical journals.

Bella screamed, and glass shattered. Small sparkles embedded into perfect, pale flesh, but Edward couldn't feel a thing. Years of not feeling made this scene no different.

"You'll pay for this, Cullen. I swear to God you will pay. My wife wasn't born to die. Not like this."

_**One year later…**_

Emmett McCarty was a man of his word, and being the Mayor of Forks gave him strong clout with the townspeople. Edward sat dejectedly in his office, watching the nurses and orderlies gather their personal belongings. His own things were stacked in cheap boxes, ready to be sold or moved back into his tiny, two bedroom cottage.

Carlisle's clinic was being shut down. The lawsuit fees had been too steep to pay, and the personal attacks against Dr. Cullen and his staff had been too much to bear. The simple, trusting people of Forks were afraid that something would go wrong when they had an illness or needed to see a doctor. No mention of Edward's unheeded pleas for Rosalie to have her baby at the clinic were made. They were afraid that what had happened to Rose could possibly impact them, and life was too hard and too precious to take that chance.

And really, Edward Cullen was no Carlisle Cullen. Carlisle lived and breathed his work- it was his whole life. To Edward, it was just a job. It was one that paid the bills, and one he did well, but above all else, it was just a job.

There was niggling hint of discrimination that didn't help Edward's case either- an old wives tale that suggested those who were born with speech impediments and other disabilities were actually the Devil's children.

Nobody said it, but the wives tale was too popular and the people too close minded to think much else that what they had always known.

"I-I-I don't know wh-what I'm g-g-going to do, B-Bella," Edward said, fists clenched and his head bowed in desperation.

"You'll think of something," she soothed, running a tender hand through his hair. "You always do."

He had been so close to being worthy.

_**Three months later…**_

"You're more skilled for this," the foreman frowned, both sickened by and pleased with Edward's work. "You have a pianist's hands, or even those of a surgeon. This is going to ruin your chances of playing concertos and suturing wounds- you know this, right?"

Edward nodded.

"Alright, son. The job is yours." His employer clapped him on the shoulder with a dirt smudged hand.

Edward went back to laying brick. Stone by stone, he built another man's house.

He brought home the first of many meager paychecks that week. He had never worked for something so hard in his life, and yet he had never been so cheaply rewarded. But it was honest work, and no one cared that he speech stumbled, or that he had an unfair scandal attached to his name.

He was just Edward Cullen, a quiet man doing a simple job.

Bella would visit him when he took his lunch, bringing tart lemonade and sweet kisses to quench his thirst. She kept herself busy while he was away, teaching children their ABC's in the same schoolhouse where they had learned their lessons all those years ago.

She would sit as close to him as possible as he ate and drank greedily and he in turn, would sling a heavy arm over her shoulders and play with the tiny diamond that rested on her ring finger.

They had been wed in a quiet ceremony in the meadow, only a few months after the Mayor's wife had died. Only their family members had been present when they said their vows, and that was the way they wanted it.

Edward had been her strength when her father had been hurt, and now she was his as he took a slave labor job with little pay. He had a loving wife and a hot meal to come home to every single night. It was heavenly. Bella surprisingly flourished in her role as a housewife, taking on cleaning, cooking and chores with excitement, not dread. She was eager to make a home for herself and Edward, desiring a cozy place to retire at the end of the day.

They couldn't have been happier, despite the dark clouds surrounding their relationship. Their engagement had initially been frowned upon, but then the townspeople realized that they could quietly marry off the scandalous individuals and be rid of their drama. So nothing more was said, and even though they were treated like social outcasts, they lived comfortably and wanted for the company of no one. Those who were open minded enough soon became best friends and advocates of the Mr. Edward Cullens, and thus, Bella and Edward were able to still socialize with kind people who were not, for once, related to them.

"I-I'll get you a b-b-bigger diamond, p-promise," Edward would say, looking at the small marker with both pride and shame. Her cheeks would flush, and she would shake imaginary crumbs from her day dress.

"I don't want a bigger one, Edward. It's the perfect size. Besides, my fingers will soon be too swollen for rings, so I won't be able to wear a gold band anyways."

That reminder would never fail to bring a smile to his face, and his hand would eventually snake down her body, and rest gently on their baby growing inside her.

_**Four months later…**_

Bella lay in their bed and would smile at Edward whenever she could. The pains were increasing in strength, and it felt as if she were being torn in two. Esme had encouraged her to walk about the room, but the baby was so close to coming that all Bella could do was literally lie there and take it.

Edward held her hand and wiped the sweat from her face with a damp cloth.

"You're doing s-s-so w-well," he murmured into her hair, watching in fascination as her belly contracted with labor pains.

Esme took one look at Bella's suddenly anguished face and ordered Edward out. It was time.

"I h-h-helped put the b-b-baby there, why c-can't I stay and h-h-help it out?" he asked, with more than a touch of worry in his tone.

"This is women's business, honey. Everything will be alright. Go on, now." Esme gently pushed him out.

"I love you, Bella," he called weakly, clutching the door frame. It was the only thing that he could say that was unblemished by his speech.

Bella's chuckled affirmation was the last thing he heard as the door was shut in his face.

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The baby was born on her twenty-fourth birthday, like a present. Small and pink and white, the baby's head was covered in little wispy golden curls, that would sooner than later darken to Edward's auburn.

She held her son in her arms, barely daring to move or breathe. He was so small and delicate, human porcelain.

"Edward, he's beautiful." She whispered, watching as he reverently touched the baby's nose with the pad of his forefinger.

"Y-Y-Yes, he is."

Esme and Carlisle and Charlie crowded the small home Edward had built, oohing and ahhing over their first grandchild. Renee had not responded to the telegram Carlisle had sent when the baby was born, and was most likely lounging on a secluded beach in Florida, unaware that her baby had had a baby.

Bella thought back to the day in the General Store, realizing that it was flighty, snobby Renee that had brought them both together. It was by her own hand that she had a grandchild!

It was all well, just the same.

This was all the family they needed.

_**Nine months later…**_

Every night she helped him pick out the splinters from his roughened hands, and would douse his numerous cuts and scratches with witch hazel. They would stand by the basin in the bathroom, and he would quietly tell her about his day, both of them keeping an ear tuned to the nursery where the baby peacefully slept.

He was finally building their house, as he had been for months, and would continue to do so for at least a few more weeks. He had secured the land grant to the meadow, and their house of dreams was centered in it, standing tall and proud and white amongst the flora and fauna.

On fair weather days, Bella would take the baby in a sling around her hip, with a sandwich for Edward in her hand, and they would watch him build. It fascinated Bella to see the plans that Edward had drawn on paper come to fruition in the real world before her very eyes. The house was twice as large as the building they were renting, and Bella couldn't wait to live in a place they could call their own.

She would watch his tall form sway on ladders as he painted the walls, her heart in her throat every time the rickety wood bent under his weight. Her heart swelled with love when she saw him painstakingly affix the shutters to the outside of the house, and when he remembered to put flower boxes under the kitchen windows. He had sunk most of their meager savings into this house, but it couldn't have been more well spent. They saw themselves living there, in the meadow, for years and years to come. They would hear the pitter patter of little feet on the well worn floors over and over, as their children grew up and moved out, then brought their own children to visit.

They would make the little house a home.

Bella diligently braided rag rugs and sewed curtains for their new domicile, not feeling the occasional prick of a needle or the sting of an accidentally placed pin- she was too full of joy and happiness to feel much of anything else. Every day there was something new to do, something else to make. She couldn't fathom how she had imagined housework to be dull- it brought her closer to the future she desired for her and Edward.

The baby grew chubby and cheerful under his parents' watchful eyes, flourishing in the fresh air that he was immersed in day after day. He was crawling now, going everywhere and nowhere, keeping his young mother on her toes. Bella would have him next to her on a blanket as they kept Edward company, and the next second when she turned her back, he would be halfway across the meadow. She would run after him and scoop him up into her arms, brushing the damp earth from his tiny feet, all while playfully scolding him and tickling his little plump body.

Edward would see them, and he would put down his tools and go over to them, figuring that he deserved a few minutes break anyways. He would toss the baby in the air, savoring the miniature peals of laughter that bubbled from his child's throat. Bella would clutch his arm in a slight panic whenever the baby was tossed especially high, but Edward would placate her with a kiss and all would be well again.

One day, the last nail was put into place, and the house was finished.

"Did you ever think you would end up like this- a house, a baby, me?" Bella asked quietly as they hung picture frames in the parlor.

"N-N-No, but I had h-hope. I g-g-guess d-dreams really d-d-do come t-true."

He touched her cheek with a hand that sparkled in the sun.

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**So, I hope you liked that. I was watching Anne of Green Gables (love those movies!) and got inspired.**

**What do you think they named the baby?**

**Please review, I have some more ideas for one shots if anyone is interested.**

**TGND will be updated soon, promise!**

**xoxo**

**ybeg**


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